“I like the way you feel.” He went on. “I liked the way your dick felt pulsing in my hand. I watched you explode all over your chest. I made you do that,” he whispered.
I smiled lazily. “Yeah, this is all your fucking fault.”
And if he kept talking like that, I was going to explode all over again.
“Did you… like it?”
I laughed. “Best hand job I ever had.”
“What did it feel like?” The desire and curiosity in his voice was clear. My heart rate spiked.
I glanced down at his center, noting he was sporting some wood of his own. It made me want to fist pump in the air, because dicks never lied. If he was hard, it was because he was turned on.
“I’ll show you,” I rumbled. “Do you want me to?”
He nodded.
Drew
He took his shirt off.
I was glad he made such a mess of himself, because now I could stare at his chest.
I liked looking at Trent. I liked knowing I was the reason he made a mess of himself.
No, I more than liked it. It made me feel like I was sitting at the start line of a race. The familiar tingle of adrenaline pulsed in my limbs, and the anticipation of his touch made me almost giddy.
Now I understood why I tried to hide from these feelings. Why they scared me so much.
I felt about Trent the way I felt about racing. Just as racing and cars were a part of me, so was he.
People said I had motor oil in my veins. I knew I bled just like every other man.
But I bled for Trent.
I drove into this town and almost immediately felt like this was where I belonged. It wasn’t just because of racing or my sister.
It was him.
Now that I admitted it, I wondered how the hell I was ever able not to.
I sank into the couch and put my feet flat on the floor. Trent was close by. The smooth look of his skin made me want to touch him. His athletic body excited me; his muscles held so much restrained power. There was nothing slight about T, nothing at all.
I stared at his wide shoulders, taking in their bulk, and remembered how fast he’d moved, how easily he maneuvered himself between me and the asshole at the bar earlier tonight. He used his size to his advantage, as a shield for me. Not many men could do that. I wasn’t a small man on my own.
But T could.
He could safeguard me in a way no one else could. He could also make me vulnerable in a way no one else could.
It was a sobering thought.
“You nervous?” he asked from the edge of the couch.
His light-brown hair was mussed, kind of wild and stuck out at the base of his neck from where I grabbed him earlier when we kissed.
I never noticed before how hawk-like his hazel eyes could be. How he was able to look into me as if he saw things no one else would notice.
I nodded honestly. “Maybe a little.”
“I don’t have to.” He hedged.
I glanced at the strength of his back, the rounded shape of his biceps. I was safe with him.
“I want to.”
He nodded and settled beside me, slightly turned so one of his shoulders pressed into the back of the couch.
The TV was still on, the changing pictures flickering low light throughout the room. His skin was illuminated by it, making it too hard to keep resisting the urge to touch him.
His skin was warm, almost flushed against my palm. I drifted down from his shoulder, across his chest to cup his pec. The nipple in the center tightened in response, and I rubbed my hand over it, teasing the bud.
Next, I trailed down a little lower, to the top of his abs, which tightened beneath my hand. They were defined enough that I was able to trace their outline with the pad of my finger.
“I don’t think it’s fair I’m the only one without a shirt,” he drawled.
I sat up and bunched the fabric of my shirt beneath my hand and pulled. I threw it over the back of the couch and settled back once more, reclining a little to give him a full view of my upper body.
I felt a little self-conscious because I wasn’t as built as him. I was leaner and not as wide. I’d never felt insecure before, never worried about pleasing someone else with the way I looked.
I never cared before.
He moved to touch me but then drew back. Disappointment crashed into me, and I realized how badly I anticipated the feel of his hands on me.
“I…” He started.
“It’s okay.” I nodded.
His hand was as warm as the rest of his skin and slightly calloused because he lifted so many weights. The somewhat rough texture of his hand made goose bumps run along my limbs. He too went for my nipple, which was already rock hard. He took it between his fingers and rolled it, lightly pinching the sensitive flesh.
My eyes slid closed, and a new sensation assaulted me.
The distinct feel of his tongue flicking over the hardened bud made me jolt. He paused and looked up. I palmed the back of his head and arched my back, pushing myself closer and pulling him down.
His lips closed around the nip and pulled. I groaned as he lavished attention on my pec in a way no one else ever had.
As he did, his hand roamed over to the other to pluck and play with the also rock-hard bud.
My ball sack tightened close to my body, and my cock began to throb.
As his tongue slid over my chest, I couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like around my cock.
My hips thrust up, and I made an impatient sound. His throaty chuckle vibrated my skin, and I shuddered. Instead of picking up his mouth and sitting back, he trailed hot, wet kisses over my abs, all the way down.
I think I muttered a curse, but I was beyond hearing. My hand tightened at the back of his head as the tip of his tongue delved into the small circle of my belly button.
His thick fingers reached for the button on my jeans, and I tilted up to give him better access.
He laughed low. “You’re very impatient.”
“I want more,” I replied, reaching for my own button. He was taking too long.
“No, you don’t.” He pushed my hand away and pinned it against the couch. “You said you wanted to know what it felt like for me to touch you.”
“It’s torture,” I groaned.
He released my wrist and popped the button free. The distinct sound of my fly going down made me tremble. “Good or bad torture?”
“You talk too much,” I grumbled.
He laughed and got up from the couch. My eyes shot open when the weight and heat of him so close was no longer there. Before I could say anything, he was settling on the floor between my knees, his hazel eyes watching, weighing my reaction to his new position.
Our eyes stayed locked when he hooked his fingers in the waistband of my jeans and my boxers and tugged. Both garments came away and slid all the way to my knees. Even though my dick sprang free, he didn’t stop. Instead, he pulled them off all the way and tossed them aside.
I was completely naked.
Vulnerable in ways I’d never been before.
Beneath my skin, my muscles quivered. From desire. From anticipation.
Trent moved a little closer and placed his hands on my knees. If he felt me shaking, he didn’t say anything. Instead, both hands slid upward to the insides of my thighs. I opened my legs a little, giving him more room, glad I did when he began kneading the muscles there and stroking his way up near my cock.
“This okay?” he whispered.
“Yes.” I sighed and closed my eyes.
“If I do anything you don’t like, just say the word and I’ll stop.”
“You could do anything to me right about now, frat boy,” I murmured.
“Even suck your dick?”
My abs contracted and my heart stalled. I’d just been imaging that very thing, and now he was offering to make it reality.
I reached down and grabbed myself to push it toward him. Offering up the most sacred piece of a
man’s body.
He wrapped his hand around it and squeezed, testing out the length and width.
My hand fell away, and I groaned.
He began the process of playing. It’s the only way I could describe what he did.
He toyed with me, used his hands to deliver thorough and exquisite pleasure. It was almost like he was in awe of my cock, like it was the first time he’d ever seen one. I liked it because it made what we were doing together, what I was experiencing at his touch, that much more devastating.
When his lips brushed the inside of my thigh, my teeth sank into my lower lip. I reached for his head again and dug my fingertips into his scalp. I didn’t have to worry too much about the amount of pressure I used because I knew he was strong enough to take it.
“I’m gonna need to hear you say it,” he murmured. Every syllable he spoke brought his lips into contact with my skin.
“Suck it,” I practically begged. “Do it.”
I felt him move between my legs, the bareness of his chest against my skin. His hand slid all the way to the base of my throbbing cock, and he jerked it upright.
His mouth slid over my length in one long stroke.
I arched up off the couch because he took the entire thing, all the way down. My dick didn’t fit that deep into anyone else’s mouth.
Trent slapped a free hand on my chest and spread his fingers wide. Using his strength, he pushed me back onto the couch and held me there while he pulled up and slid back down over me again.
“Fuuucccck…”
He worked me good. Like a fucking master. If I wasn’t so far gone with desire, I might have been pissed, because surely this wasn’t his first time giving a blowjob.
I wanted Trent all to myself. I didn’t want to share.
The steady pressure and rhythm he used on my cock built up tension inside me. He somehow managed to bring me to the brink of an orgasm and hold me there. When he would release my cock, I would try and grab him back, and he would chuckle.
His full lips wrapped around just the tip, and he did this thing with his tongue… this swirling movement that made my eyes roll back in my head.
“I like the way you taste,” he growled and then attacked me again.
My hands griped whatever they could and hung on. The second I started to quake, he pulled back and pumped me with his fist.
I came hard and fast, spraying out all over my chest and leaking down onto his hand. When I felt him wipe at the stuff, I cracked an eye, afraid maybe touching another guy’s shit might freak him out.
He didn’t look grossed out. If anything, he looked turned on. His lips were slightly red from being around my cock and his tongue darted out and slid over his lower lip.
Trent wrapped his fingers around my head and squeezed gently, milking the rest of my release out of my cock. The bead of white balanced the tip, so he released my skin to wipe it away with his fingers.
I collapsed back, totally fucking spent.
That had been better than some entire sex marathons I’d had with a few old girlfriends.
I wrinkled my nose. Thinking about them and what we’d done made me a little queasy. It felt wrong now. Having anyone but T touch me now felt wrong.
The soft touch of fabric on my stomach caused me to look down. He was cleaning me up.
Something about the action made my heart turn over. He was using his shirt. Soaking up my jiz on his shirt. The same shirt he just came all over.
We were mixing together.
Maybe I should have been put off.
I wasn’t.
Without thought, I ran my fingers through his hair. He glanced up and smiled. It was relaxed and almost shy.
Butterflies erupted in my stomach. No shit, genuine butterflies.
He just affected me that much.
“You okay?” he asked.
He seemed to ask that a lot tonight. Like he cared a lot more about how I felt than him.
“Actually, I’m kinda pissed,” I replied.
Trent drew back, and his eyes widened. “Why?”
“A couple reasons.” I held up a finger. “There was no way that was your first BJ.”
Relief made him grin; his crooked tooth charmed me. “I think I’d know if I’d sucked another dude’s cock before.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I’ll beat their fucking ass.”
He patted my leg and stood up. “Yours is the only one I’m interested in.”
I grunted. Better be.
“What else?” he asked, moving across the room.
I watched his back muscles bunch as he walked and the long length of his arm when he bent down to pick up my jeans.
“Huh?” I said, distracted.
A smug looked crossed his face. “Like what you see?”
I wagged my eyebrows.
He held up his arm and flexed his impressive bicep.
“Now you’re just being cocky,” I told him.
Trent laughed. It was my favorite sound.
“Why else are you pissed?” he asked, not even concerned.
“Because all this time, we could have been blowing each other.” I shook my head sadly. “I’ve missed a lot of fucking orgasms.”
Trent straightened and looked at me seriously. My jeans dangled from his hand. “You’d want to do that to me?”
The question kind of made me feel like shit.
Like maybe I should have paid more attention to the way he was feeling. After all, I did find him in a gay bar tonight. He’d gone there because he was tore up inside and felt alone. He’d wanted to find someone who might understand.
“Yeah, frat boy,” I answered soft. “That’s definitely something I want to do.”
He blinked and swallowed thickly, suddenly overcome by emotion. I pushed off the couch and stepped around the coffee table. Trent wasn’t looking at me, but was very involved with his task.
“Trent.”
His shoulders stiffened, and he pulled my boxers out of my jeans. “Here.” He extended them between us.
I quickly pulled them on. “Hey.” I touched his wrist when I was done.
He still wouldn’t look at me.
“You’ve been carrying this around a long time, huh?” I asked gently.
He nodded.
Trent wasn’t a very vocal guy. He was good at blending in with the background, with being the friend everyone loved, but no one knew quite as well as everyone else.
It didn’t matter to me. But now I knew why.
Judging just from where I found him tonight and everything that happened since, it made me even more in awe of him. Goddamn, he was so brave.
Brave even though he was clearly barely holding it together. Strong in the face of a hurricane. Solid in a crumbling world.
He still made you his top priority tonight.
I reached for him, pulled him close. My arms wrapped around his waist and clutched his back. Even though he was wider than me, I still hunched around him. I still tried to make him feel less alone.
His face pressed into the side of my neck when he hugged me back.
I held him tighter. My sister always said I gave the tightest hugs of anyone she ever knew.
I held as tight as I could in that moment. If he were crumbling, I would hold every single piece of him in place.
He lifted his head a fraction, just enough to rest his chin on my shoulder. “I thought I was going to lose you.”
It surprised me to realize as scared as I was about what was happening between Trent and me, it seemed I just might have been a little less afraid.
He’d been the one to admit how he felt first.
He’d been the one to kiss me.
He’d been the one to give the first blowjob.
But I was the one standing here holding him.
One of my hands slid up the back of his neck to palm his head.
Trent was a paradox, and not many people saw.
He was strong. But there was something impossibly vulnerable about him.
/> Something that made my heart swell.
I hadn’t been sure how I felt until this moment. Until I pulled him into my arms and the rightness clicked into place.
I loved him.
I loved him in a way I’d never loved anyone before.
“You’re not going to lose me, frat boy,” I vowed softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Trent
He laid his head in my lap.
I sat reclined against the back of the couch with my feet up on the table and he was horizontal with his legs propped up on the arm.
Neither one of us bothered with shirts, and we’d both changed into basketball shorts with loose material instead of putting on jeans again.
I was wearing a pair of Drew’s. They were black and had a white string on the inside of the waistband. He’d given me a T-shirt, too, and though I was sorely tempted to wear it just because it was his, I opted to stay bare chested.
Since my shirt was, ah, dirty, we threw our clothes in the wash, then came back downstairs where we settled in to watch the third Terminator movie. When he flopped down and put his head in my lap, a lump formed in my throat.
This guy was turning me into a marshmallow.
Moments like these with him had been so badly wanted that getting even just one now was sort of like some impossible wish being granted.
I wasn’t an emotional type of guy, but this meant something to me.
We talked about the movie as we watched and about the stunts on screen. But never far from the back of my thoughts was him and how good it felt to have him right here.
Partway through he rolled onto his side so his cheek pillowed against my thigh. He tucked his arms around him and pulled his knees in a little.
“You cold?”
“Yeah,”
“I’ll turn on the fire place.” I offered and pushed off the back of the sofa.
“No,” he protested and pushed me down. “Don’t get up.”
When I settled back down he sighed and pushed a little further into my lap. The blanket was within reach so I pulled it down over him making sure his chest and arms were covered. Without a word he lifted the top up and invited me in.
I draped my arm over his side, across his chest and he let go of the blanket so it could fall back in to place. His hand reached for mine and we loosely linked them together.
#Junkie (GearShark #1) Page 19